


Bring to Heel

by holograms



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Enemies With Benefits, Foot Fetish, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, light fetish. tasteful without being gaudy.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holograms/pseuds/holograms
Summary: Hawkeye discovers something interesting about Frank. It's a good thing neither of them have any shame.
Relationships: Frank Burns/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Bring to Heel

**Author's Note:**

> don't even @ me, i _know_. i KNOW. but it had to be done. we've all thought this about the show.
> 
> thank you captainafab for the title.  
> bring to heel idiom: To compel someone to obey; to force someone into a submissive condition.  
> also: foot pun. and heel/heal thing, too.
> 
> this is dedicated to whichever writer(s) on the show had the foot fetish.

Fucking Frank is as good as fucking with him, and that’s enough reason for Hawkeye to keep doing it, as well as: he’s bored, and it shuts Frank up for a while. And the weaselly guy is alright in bed. Go figure.

And that’s why he’s sitting with Frank on his cot in the middle of the night. The tent flaps are down and Trapper won’t be back from his shift for hours. It’s dark, the lamp illuminating enough to only see somewhat in the shadows. Frank likes it best that way, so he can delude himself that he isn’t fucking a man.

They’re down to their shirts and boxers, facing each other. Hawkeye convinced Frank to drink a couple glasses of gin with him, and now he won’t stop giggling. It’s irritating. Hawkeye wants to skip to the part where they’re touching each other.

“Shut up,” Hawkeye says, and he shoves at Frank with his foot because he really wants Frank on top of him. It’s effective, Frank goes quiet but _too_ quiet, his breathing shallow and his eyes a bit wild.

Hawkeye looks down to where his socked foot is on Frank’s thigh. To where his erection is starting to fill out his boxers.

“Frank.”

“No.” Frank pushes Hawkeye’s foot away, puts his legs together and tucks his knees to his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You like that, don’t you?” Hawkeye brushes his foot against Frank’s shin and Frank swallows and shifts. “Oh, you _really_ like that.”

Frank blushes, stammers. “It—it’s nothing,” he says. “I just. I’ve always wanted...for someone to use their. Um. On me.”

Huh.

Hawkeye gets closer; Frank backs up to the edge of his cot.

“Don’t be mean,” Frank says. Pleads. That’s one of their unspoken rules: don’t be (too) mean. This is supposed to be fun.

“I’m not. I’m for whatever gets you off. I am pro-ejaculation.” And besides, Hawkeye has his own _things_ — he likes his hair pulled and he nothing gets him harder than when his wrists are tied to the bedpost and he’s made to _wait._

Hawkeye puts his hands at Frank’s knees, parts them. Frank doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t yield to him, either.

“Nobody’s done it for me before,” Frank says, his voice hitching.

“I’m a lot of firsts for you, baby.” First _man_ , first to make him come three times in one evening (or so he said). Hawkeye strips off his socks, flings them in the direction of his bunk. He wiggles his toes. “My feet are ready.”

Frank has that expression where it looks like every thought has evaporated from his mind. “You don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Once you've fucked my ass, not much else can faze me.” Hawkeye nudges his foot at Frank’s leg. “C’mon. Let me play footsie with your dick.”

Frank lets out a guttural whimper. His eyes flutter shut before looking at him again. “Are you _sure?”_

“As long as you get me off after.” Hawkeye bends one knee and rests his arm on it, stretches his other leg towards Frank as he opens his legs more to reveal he’s quite _excited_ indeed. Hawkeye trails up the soft part of Frank’s inner thigh, closer—

 _“Oh.”_ Frank moans and huh, this is really doing it for him. He likes most anything, Hawkeye has discovered — likes to please, likes to be touched, an absolute slut for praise — but this is something else. He’s pushing forward, seeking friction, wanting—

Frank puts a hand over his mouth, muffling a shout when Hawkeye puts his foot on him. It’s not Hawkeye’s thing, but it’s not as difficult or strange as he had thought it’d be. He feels Frank’s dick twitch into his arch, and that’s nice. He runs his foot along the length, through the fabric of his boxers.

“Pierce,” Frank says. Gasps. He clutches at the sides of his cot. “ _Hawkeye._ ”

“Yeah.” Hawkeye is more dexterous with his hands, but he gets a good motion going, rubbing the hardness. He doesn’t know if Frank would like it more if he slipped his foot inside his boxers. He doesn’t think either of them are drunk enough for _that_. And he doesn’t want to give Frank too much, too soon. He doesn’t want Frank to mistake this for thoughtfulness, or something like it.

Hawkeye leans back on his elbows, puts his other foot on Frank. Gently presses against his balls as he works his other on him. Hawkeye wants to say something cruel, but the expression on Frank’s face is too good. The dim light makes him look near feral with his unrestrained want. It’s a good look on him.

Hawkeye really hates him.

He rubs harder, toes at the head. Feels where he’s leaked wet. Frank whimpers. He’s close.

“I almost like you when you’re like this. Debased, no shame, you’re not saying anything stupid. Too bad the only time you aren’t a bootlicker is when your dick is wet.” Hawkeye uses both feet on his dick, stokes it with them. “Maybe next time I’ll have you lick my boots—”

Frank makes a fractured sound in his throat, and then comes in his boxers.

Hawkeye watches as Frank goes through his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth parted open and his body shaking. It passes, and he opens his eyes and looks at Hawkeye.

It’s then that Hawkeye realizes he’s hard. He’s not embarrassed about it. He really needs to be jerked off and a drink or maybe two. He doesn’t care in which order.

He goes to retract his feet but Frank catches one of them. Pulls it up to his face, kisses his ankle.

“And you call _me_ a degenerate,” Hawkeye says, mumbled low and he thinks Frank is going to slip right back into his intolerable state but he drops Hawkeye’s foot and then pushes Hawkeye onto his back, climbs on top of him, sticks his hand in his boxers and grips him hard and his mouth is hot at his throat and _ah—_

 _Thank you,_ he thinks he hears Frank say. He ignores it on purpose, if he did say that. He thinks instead of how to humiliate Frank tomorrow by making a joke about painting his toenails. Yes. That’s more like it.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry not sorry


End file.
